Existence, Thy Stage is Mine!
by Hina Evaresia
Summary: "What if those works of fiction are just our mind catching glimpses of another world?" I asked, a smile threatening to play along my lips. The look of pure excitement, and fascination in their eyes at that idea was a moment I will never forget. But then, I had only told them the truth, and you know what they say. Sometimes the truth is far stranger than fiction.
1. The Day Humanity Broke

Chapter 0  
The Day Humanity Broke

Once upon a time, someone told me they believed in a little theory. If infinite universes could exist, does that mean all universes could exist? If every work of fiction could have it's own universe, with it's own laws of reality. Could that also mean every work of fiction has endless variations? An endless expanse of realities born of countless works of art.

I responded, "What if those works of fiction are just our mind catching glimpses of another world?" I asked, a smile threatening to play along my lips. The look of pure excitement, and fascinated in their eyes at that idea was a moment I will never forget. But then, I had only told them the truth, and you know what they say. Sometimes the truth is far stranger than fiction.

Earth, May 1693. A time Humanity should never have forgotten. And yet,the reason it is remember is in blissful ignorance. A time where lunatics of religion burned innocent men and women, hung them, tried them for a crime they were innocent. The crime was true. The Victims, were only a fraction of the truth.

The Salem Witch Trials were only one of the great moments of tragedy, spurred on by humanities disregard for understanding, and willingness to destroy anything that even is hinted to separate from what they believe to be real. 20 people, recorded, were executed for the practice of "Witchcraft." A word that for some seems so dirty. The practice of magic, believing them to be Wives of the Devil, who dance, and work in his name.

20 people was nowhere near the true scope of this pain. Nor were humans the only victims. Near 400 souls met the fire that day. Over 600 were accused of witchcraft. 200 of them were humans. over 400 were things that now, humanity only remembers in legends, twisted and mutated by their own hatreds, and pains.

2 of those people, were daughters of Hell. Demons, who came to earth in hopes of learning more about humans. Women seeking knowledge in curiosity. Sadly, a demon is just a demon, to humanity. Nothing but creatures of sin, and evil. If only they could see.

I slowly slumped against a wall, shaking quietly as I clutched my younger sister tightly. My curly brown hair now completely covered black with ash, my red eyes now strained from tears, and wails of fear. My pale skinned covered in a mixture of dirt, soot, and sweat from running. How had things gone so far downhill, so quickly..

I took out a brush, and slowly began to work on my little sister's hair. Her lavender locks, normally wavy were now tangled and knotted, as she shook in my lap. Her beautiful purple eyes were clamped shut as she clutched her little penguin doll. Her soft peach skin was as muddied as mine, but luckily lacked the sweat mine did as I had carried her this far.

She was only 700, she didn't need to see this. Why had I brought her along, I should of known better. I should of been more prepared.. I gently work to fix her hair, safe now hidden by the wall of stone behind us, as I hear in the distance the marching footsteps of the villagers. They must be at least 2 miles off, plenty of distance for now. Even with hounds, my magic has covered our scent plenty to avoid tracking at this range.

I run the brush slowly over the front section, careful of her horns. Her two twisted horns, starting at the back of her hair, curl softly down the sides of her head, like a circlet just above her hair, peeking at her forehead into two small spikes. She always had the cutest of my sisters. Still, she's also one of the youngest.

I kiss her head, trying to whisper comforting things to help calm her down, as i gently rock her in my arms. She seems to relax slowly, as her shaking calms down, but she mutters something that makes me want to cry. Her voice cracked, in shock, but laced with anger. "Why can't we just killed them...?"

I sit there, holding her closely as I pet her head quietly. My own voice harsh from running, I answer slowly. "Because they just don't know any better yet Kimisa." I always sucked at physical actions, and those brands.. They stunted my magic enough to stop me from empowering my limbs. I'll need to get home later and use some olystrite to burn off whatever hex they placed on me with these odd mishaped T's.

She takes a shakey breath, leaning more into me clutching her doll. She seems annoyed with my answer, but understanding. She's always disliked humans, seeing them as pests who cause the yokai and hybriod races issues. She always wondered why they were allowed to live on Sol, and not just made to live in their own separate world. I've always tried to explain that they are a newer race, it takes time.

"Ok... C.. can we j just go home t then..?" Her voice afraid, shaky and hoarse. I clutch her tighter to me, taking a nervous breath as tears threaten to spill. The brands hurt so badly as i try to pool mana to my hands, stopping any chance to open a portal home. When we get there, I am asking Chef to make us the biggest fucking cookie pizza ever.

"We will Kimisa, we will. We just need to get to get away from them long enough for these weird hexes to wear off, ok?" I tell her, trying not to let on how much I want to cry.

"Ok Big Sissy. I love you, so I trust you." She responds, a bit calmer as she nestles into me, keeping her eyes closed to try and nap. I pet her head, softly singing a lullaby as I wipe my face. If only i could tell her, I have no clue how long that might be.

Night slowly comes, as I look back from our stony barrier. I can still see the glow of torches passed the forest line, the smoke of a bonfire, and the snarling of hounds. They are so much closer now, not even 100 meters away.

I pick up my sweet Kimi, putting her on my back careful not to wake her. She doesn't need to see their eyes, it'll only destroy the hope she has left for these people. I take off, ignoring the burning in my legs as I rush towards a nearby river, using a small dose of mana to erase each footprint and as much of my scent as I can. Every cast burns my back like resting it against a searing cauldron, but keeping her safe is far more important than the pain.

I hear the snarling grow closer, and closer. I close my eyes and shout to the river, ignoring the pain as much as I can, "Help Us!" as loudly as I can, praying the nyads will hear my cries. A moment passes, running, panting, as the growls and barks of the hounds grow closer. I close my eyes, awaiting the pain of their teeth on my legs. A moment later, the water surges up, forming like a titan as it's massive arm slams onto the land, and I toss Kimi into the water as she wakes from the sudden noise. In a strained cry I scream, "KEEP HER SAFE!" as the crashinbg arm of the titan blasts away the crowd and their hounds, dosing the blaze of their torches, but pushing me to the ground from the force and splash.

I hear a cry among my daze, a scream of desperation, as the grogginess of impact starts to wear off, and the villagers recover. "Momosa!" I hear my little sister scream. I look up, watching the Nyad hold her, as she rushes down the river toward a sanctuary hidden in the mountains. I smile quietly, tears pooling in my eyes.

"I'll be with you soon little sissy, I just need to let them calm down," I whisper to myself. I know these humans can't kill me. Even with the burning stakes, the anchors among the waves, or their nooses and brands. My body would survive, for a succubus is not so easily killed, but the pain..

I feel the fangs of hounds clamp down visciously on my calves. They don't break skin, but the pressure and violent jerking are agony of my strained limps as I cry out. The villagers quickly grab me, bind me, and force their odd symbols on me in beads and jeweled symbols that scorch my skin as i scream with each one, before I am gagged, and hauled away to their village.

A cage is all that awaits me. A cage, and a joke of a trial. For the very crime of existing. For the crime of being a demon. For the crime of not being human. How i pity these foolish little things.. How simple they think, and yet what hatred it can inspire. All I wanted to do was come to study.

3 days. Nothing but Iron bars surrounded me. If not for these weird hexes, these bars would be a joke. Metal magic, or a flick of my finger would split them like fabric to a hot blade. I stare up when I can, the few hours they don't cover my cage with a tarp. The hours they call Mass. I watch them all in this house of wood, with symbols all over to something. Those odd T's, symbols of what I can only imagine are the twisted images of Seraphs, seeing them as some pure infallible creatures.

My drinking buddies would have a riot seeing these. Especially Crua. She's about as pure as an Irish alcoholic can be. A Seraph born from a heroine, as most are, given a second chance to be great. She sure is great alright, a great binge drinker. Woman can toss back more ale than the bar can brew some nights. What she'd do if she saw this might make these people really afraid.

As they gather, I hear them speak in common tongue. Sometimes sharing stories, sometimes singing. Some of the stories resemble things from history books, but they seem almost, twisted. As if someone changed them, to fit something different. Others seem outright outlandish, or completed fabricated. If these were just children stories, I'd find it funny, but these tales spin hateful narratives at times, and these people listen with an almost if not zealous addiction. Like these are the cornerstone of their entire lives.

I feel baffled. I understand that tales can influence the morality of people, but this is almost hysterical. These are little more than twisted history book snippets, and others outright lies, and these people take it as the word of life itself, and they keep repeating that it is all in the name of god. I can't tell which god they are talking about. Are they Worshippers of Zeus, or Jupiter? Even he wouldn't be this dickheaded and pompous. Hell any belief that limits he's ability to have shrimp would be met with lightning.

I consider Odin maybe, but as twisted a man as he is, he always saw midgarians as foolish but wellmeaning. He'd never create these types of rules. Maybe Ra? No, the symbolism of light seems similar, but he's a child of Life herself, noway in damnation would he encourage this kind of behavior.

I hear something that begins to clue me in to what they think, but it only serves to disturb me all the more as the leader of this meeting says it. "The One true God." I feel my heart stop. Are they talking about Amestria? Do they not know about Synia? There's no way they can be though, this is nothing she'd ever promote. This is the exact opposite of what she'd teach.

I sit in my cage, 3 days of darkness with sporadic meetings of these people, continuing to talk of these twisted tales, and occasionally pointing to me when naming Satan. What does the Pride King have to do with this, and why are they only calling him by his status title?

I feel so confused. I almost thought being stuck here would give me insight to what they are doing, why they are acting this way, but all it's done is leave me with countless more questions.

On the fourth day, the tarp is removed as my cage is opened, and I'm dragged out by a sickly chain around the collar they forced on my neck that tries to bite into my skin. My eyes widen in horror, as I'm led outside. People gathering around massive spikes in the ground laiden with Hay, and soaked in oil. That isn't what horrifies me, as I knew where I was going. The Fires will hurt, but so long as I can wait for them to try and dump what they'll assume is my corpse, I can make my escape.

No.. It's the lines of others, waiting to meet the flames. Even some of their own I noticed are shackled, and hundreds of others. Elves, trolls, kitsune, slimes bound in glass, sahanguin, murlocks, dryads, satyrs, even a few harpies and mirium. Some entire families, shackled in lines with iron, branded painfully with these same strange hexes. I realize with horror and anger, that they plan to burn them all. Of them all, only the Kitsune have a chance to survive like I would. Flames have little effect on fire elementals such as them, but the rest... What point is there to this massacre..?

I hear the leader call out. His voice vindictive to us, but almost like a triumphant roar to the crowd."Today! We offer these, these demons, abominations, and witches to the fire. Today, we punish the wicked, the blasphemous and heretical traitors of God!" The crowd eats it up, cheering excitedly like an army of zealots. I see no mercy, no sympathy in their eyes for us. They seem to look down on us, like we are just animals, lesser. Like we are just monsters to them.

I lose all focus, in total shock of what I am witnessing. Even as my chain is dragged and I'm bound to the spire, stripped of my clothes and bound like there like a pig ready to be cooked. I look up, meeting the leader in the eyes, his body clad in black with a large T on his chest hanging by a beaded necklace, as i simply utter in shock, "Why..?"

He simply snorted at me as he grabbed a torch. "You know what you have done, demon. The sin you spread, the souls you have corrupted. Even if we have not witnessed all your destruction, your kind is all the same. Today, we shall destroy you, and deliver you unto the hands of God. May he have mercy on your wretched soul." His voice nothing but cruel, and demeaning as he marches towards the haystack.

I watch the flame, eyes shaking. To them I must look terrified for my own life, but all I can think of are the children in shackles, the people who will come after me. I can only think back now, to the words I said to Kimi. "They just don't know any better."

I feel my anger bubble, as the hexes on my begin to sear. I don't care. I feel them heat up as i grit my teeth, face marred with rage. I don't care. Mana pools into my hands, as my hair begins to glow with crackling lightning, the brands heating further, as they begin to light the oil itself even as the leader backs up, staring afraid. I don't care how much I'll suffer. I will survive. Pain is nothing anymore. I have to save them.

"FUCK YOU!" I shriek in pure rage. I feel a hint of hate enter my voice, as my eyes glow crackling with mana and fury. I roar loudly, surging might as my binds partially crack, but that isn't my focus. I cast a powerful push spell around those surrounding the captives, and then use a metal sever spell on their chains and push spell outward on the glass holding the slimes, as all of them are set free. I shriek "RUN! WARN EVERYONE YOU CAN!" As loud as my voice can manage. They look at me for a brief instant, a few young boys almost rushing to help me among then, before the adults mouth quiet thanks, ebfore bolting into the trees, as I form ghostly shackles behind them, barring these humans from making chase when they recover.

At that moment, the blaze, the hexes, and the agony become to much, as the mana in my hands vanishes. I scream, clamping my eyes shut as the fire surrounds me. It chars the outter layer of skin, tyhe heat is so intense. It's like sitting in a boiling pot. My lung burn as the smoke fills them with every breath, and I force myself to stop breathing to avoid further pain. I can last a while without air as i shakily try to look at the leader even as the wall of fire and smoke surrounds me.

The glare I receive tells me everything I should of known. They know exactly what they are doing. I only hope in time, they can learn.


	2. The Family of Life and Death

Chapter 1

The Family of Life and Death

The three greatest mysteries of life, ever questioned by scholar, scientist, philospher and pastor alike. Life's purpose, it's vastness, and what comes beyond it's end. Many have theorized countless ideas. Gods, Heavens, Hells, dimensions of both paradise and damnation far beyond their understanding, only touched on in their greatest dreams, and darkest nightmares. To what extent do these places expand, and who is the one who determines the destination of each and every soul.

There are many who in response to the terror of both a faceless ruler, and eternal suffering, pendulum swing to the belief there is nothing that comes beyond. No life, no death, only the end of one's consciousness, and body ridden to the worms of soil.

These are the ones I pity the most of my many children. So afraid to believe their destiny is not their own, that they would rather an endless oblivion, than the risk of joy or pain in the end. Some claim this belief stems from a lack of proof, lack of evidence to a grand creator, or creators. For this, I can not blame them. Their eyes are simply not open enough to bare witness to my many truthes. To the many hints, secrets, signs that Life is an ever changing, ever flowing, ever building reality.

Nor is it but a single reality. Some have even peered into this great truth. For there is not one, but an endless span of realities. An ocean, vast, and never ending with worlds, realities, lives. An endless sea of existences which my family is charged with the guiding, and guarding. For what would Life be, but an endless, eternal mother?

We are of small number, but vast in heart are we. I, Life herself. Skithastalia Evambrance Crystalia Glister Gold Evaresia, but most know me simply as Skith the Gold, or to the many whom curse my name, Life. I am the eldest daughter of the two almighty. I am charged with the creation, and craft of all souls, and thus. All things are my children, and all things bare my endless love. Both the good, and the bad.

My beloved wife, my harsh truth, Chrona Endabrance Systalia Trister Evaresia, or Chrona, as she prefers. Death. Charged with the judgement, and sanctuary of all my sweet children passed their inevitable ends, ensuring they either reside in the true beyonds. Heaven, a paradise of vast peace, tranquility, and warmth. A land graced with the laughter of seraphs, the endless fields that never end with crops, and bountiful fruits. Or the other paradise, Hell. A land of desire, and unending pleasures. A land where the boisterous laughter of demons fills the air, and people may revel in drink, in joy, and in pleasures beyond their vastest dreams. For so many believe demons harbingers of evil, when they are but a paradise's rulers that so many see as but sin and filth. A strange belief, I've always found.

Of course, a soul may sit upon either paradise at will. A choice only determines where their housing shall be, while they may travel between the two at will. After all, a true paradise is never ending, but also ever changing. How boring would it be, if your eternity was naught but silence and meditation, or endless drinks? A mingling of the two is the best for the soul, after all.

Of course, I must speak of her and I's many children, and siblings. For you see, life and death come in two defined species. Heartforms, such as I. Who represent aspects of life, and Voidures, who represent aspects of Death. Where to begin... Ah! Of course, our closest siblings of course would be a fine place to begin. My Younger brother, Lucifer the Platinum, the lightbearer, an aspect of Life that defines morality. Sadly, he is not with us. Differences in the family, and choices have left us estranged, but I wish him only the best, where ever he might be.

Next would be my twin brother, Animus. The Aspect of life that represents it's more animalistic needs. The representation of Life's will to thrive, and expand. He rarely speaks, but when he does, even my Chrona listens. For his words carry weight we all understand. For what words could be wiser, than ones that come from the very soul of life's needs?

Then, there would be my younger sister Gabrielle. An Arch Angel, and General to the Armies of heaven. The Aspect of life that represents it's strength, and determination that flows through us all. It's Iron will, to fulfill any goal, to fell any obstacle. A stubborn, but honest woman. She has my respect. Though she may be brazen in her approach, she is honest and forthcoming in her choices, and for that I can never fault her.

Of course, how could I speak of the heavens without bringing up my brother, Aurelion Sol. The Aspect of Exploration, and the crafter of the stars. In his hands, I have witnessed countless galaxies become reality, and yet he can not discover the answer to a simple finger trap. His intelligence is truly only matched by his ego, but he cares for life, so i leave it be.

Those are my siblings who's lives are still among ours, or still hold a place of care in our hearts. Of COurse, I must speak of our children. We have birthed many in our endless ages, and each has achieved such greatness, found their own goals to achieve.

Our eldest, Tarsia Machina Tristalia Mysta Silver Evaresia, or simply Tars the Silver. My sweet airhead, her mind is but an ever buzzing house of bees, countless ideas searching and battling for her attention amidst her subconscious. An artist, a blissful creator with the attention span of wheat. Oh how she tries, and oh how she has succeeded, but her absent minded attention span I feel is the cause behind the slow progress of her aspect. For she is the Aspect of Evolution, and it's great architect.

In her hands, she weaves, bends, and crafts new species, new identities, entire worlds with but a stroke of her brush, but to actually implement these countless ideas is...Slow. Her constant buzzing turns into a seemingly endless span of change, but also an endless time for it to take. Still, perhaps life is better if the change is slow, and steady.

Next, the twins. Samael Grimmistrac Corestai Blissin Evaresia, and Michael Chrimmistrac Outrastai Mlissin Evaresia, or Simply Michael and Sam. Two boys that could be no further apart, yet so close. Michael, an outgoing young man who feels most at home among a club, under the lights, enjoying the music and dancing and drink of the evening. For he is the aspect of Hope in Death, the embodiment of joy to come. Of a life well lived, and a warmth awaiting one's soul at it's end.

Sam is quite different. An introvert in everyway, most at home among his many books, and many stories. Yet of the two, he has taken many human lives, to explore the many realities through their eyes. I feel in this way, he has gained a vast understanding of their endless hopes, dreams, and of course. Fears. For he embodies the fear of Death. The terror of it's coming, and the wakeless horror that might wait one's soul at it's end.

The other twins of course, are near identical in all but appearance. Balmugrund Drimsta Strysanth Murfist Ruby Evaresia, and Orasistac Brimsta Chrysanth Surfist Sapphire Evaresia, or Simply Balmug the red, and Oras the call them laid back, would be calling a sloth mildly paced. They feel most at home on a beach, at friends homes, or at their own with a bong, and plenty of snacks. Oh how I hope their daughter is at least a bit more motivated. For they represent Order, and Justice in existence. They are good in their duties, but i fear their lackadaisical nature might attribute to existence's... Issue.

Next, would be our youngest twins, ahem, Triplets. Hina, Azarail, and Rave. A trio of near identical young children, still growing, but despite matching personalities they have such wildly different hobbies. Hina spends near all her days visiting her friends in the Chateau du Succubi, hanging with the youngest four of the family. Momosa, Kimisa, Haley, and Layeh Lilium. At first I had worried it might be a... Changing growth, but given she is but 4 years old, and clearly no attention given in such ways to the elder siblings, I can tell quite clearly it is but a budding friendship, and perhaps something more unto the future. She is a determined one, and I can only hope she is prepared for the journey that is to come.

Azarail, the male of the three is more soft spoken, but relatively kind. Well, unless you lay a finger on his puppy, or his books. Then say goodbye to that finger. He spends most his days relaxing by the fire near my harsh Truth, reading the days away with a soft smile. Rave on the other hand, is almost never out of the Arena we have built on the property, spending endless hours practicing any chance she has with Hina with the practice weapons we've prepared for their ages. Not a day goes by they return without plenty of bruises despite the sparring machine being designed to heal all wounds. I half suspect they shut it off when we are not looking.

Currently, we are expecting another dear child. Oh how I can feel the little one rattling excitedly at times, especially when I prepare dinner. I can sense she will have quite the appetite. However... I've come to worry for sweet Hina. Tomorrow, she is to be told the news. News that may change her entire view of existence.

Tomorrow, she will be declared my Harsh truth's heir. For in her eyes she saw something that none of our other deathly children carry. Michael and Sam, while caring in their own ways, see the world in black and white. There is good, there is evil, and thus they must protect them. Sam comes to collect the wicked, Michael, the kind. Azarail has little care for morality, and only cares for those who harm those close to him, and the innocent. Beyond that, he has little cares for judgement or morality. Rave...Is a wildchild. Violent, and absolute, she understand much like her older brothers, there are the bad, and the good. While she can grasp there is something in between, she often times blurts out that it doesn't matter if from this side she sees evil.

Hina... She sees things in such an odd light it even threw me off. On her 4th birthday, my Harsh truth gave them all a test of judgement. Of the three, Azarail did the worst, Rave didn't even get passed the second question, but Hina sees things at such a bizare angle, i often wonder where such wisdom comes from. Not only did she pass, she bewildered my harsh truth with her answer at that to the sentencing.

The world is not black, white, good, or evil to her. It is so many shades of grey, I often time she can even see beyond even my years, but her damnation is absolute. So much so, I often wonder if there is more than one voice speaking in my little girl than just hers. There are times, when I see her staring at the sky at night, watching the vast stars, but it is not my Hina I see when I search those eyes. It is a hunger, a drive. A will, that is both her own, and entirely different.

The day this first manifested was her 3rd birthday, where we got her a little glider. Oh how excited she was when we got to the store in our guises, she ran outside and took off down the road on it. I told my harsh truth to let her enjoy the toy, and we watched, until a gunshot rang out. A bank nearby was being ransacked, and Hina turned instantly towards it. A simple gun would never harm her, but i did not wish her to see such violence, not just yet. However... that day, I witnessed the hunger living inside my child.

She had dismounted her glider, and bolted inside the bank before either of us could react. A moment later, any hostage or banker appeared outside the place, warped out by a powerful transportation spell. Something she could only have just learned the words for recently how to say, let alone cast. Then, the screaming rang out.

For a few seconds, there was a cry so loud that it shook myself to the core. At first, I feared the worst. Gunmen armed with Oad rounds had shot my baby, before it hit. Those were the screams of adults. As we both warped over to the doorway, both our eyes widened in shock, as My harsh truth instantly knocked all potential viewers on the outside unconscious. They would be fine, but better a few minor head injuries, than the sight they might view.

My sweet Hina was not inside. Instead, I saw a small girl, sitting in a dress once pale white. Brown locks of hair that cascaded down her back, and hands covered in thick crystal like claws. The dress now near painted red, as I stared in horror. The claws were her own blood, with long marks running down both her little arms, and she sat in the center of the build, now completely bathed in red. Bodies, torn apart like parts of dolls that a child was upset with, with a single thief sleeping in the corner, knocked out but strangely unharmed. All the others were but carcasses scattered about, with the child slowly pulling the head off the last one, giggling almost adorably with the sound of the tearing flesh.

Slowly, she turned to face us, her mouth curled into a painful smile. The lips shredding her own skin to reach ear to ear, with fangs each the width of steak knives, jagged and twisted. Her eyes, pools of crimson that slowly bled down her own cheeks, with circles of blue sitting behind the wells of blood that coated them just barely in view to our advanced sight.

"Mommyyyy, lookkkk. I punished them. Just like mamaaaa. I punished the wicked!" Her voice so excited and giddy, as she held up the head like a prized toy, before crushing it in her fingers. She giggled like she had merely popped a balloon, as I covered my mouth.

"Hina, I think it's time to go home," My harsh truth spoke, slowly approaching what I could only assume must be our daughter in some twisted transformation.

"Awww, Mama. Hina's not here right now. Shhhhh," putting a twisted claw to her lips as the bloody crystals slowly disolve, revealing soft little hands. "She's sleepingggg, I didn't wanna let her see the good people get hurt, so I put her down for napiessss," She whispered out, giggling sweetly.

"Then, who might I ask are you, daughter?" She asked, offering a hand to our daughter to take.

"Why, I am Aeris," She answered, as the air in the room went cold. The implications of the name rang deep, in both of us. For Aeris is a word in old tongue of demons.

"Justified cruelty..." I whispered quietly to myself, as I stared upon my poor baby. Slowly, her brown hair began to turn silver, the blood filled eyes began to empty returning to their icy blue color, before closing as she slowly fell over into my Harsh Truth's arms.

Slowly, she looked at me with a knowing stare, as she gently picked up our daughter. I looked at the single armed robber she had not slain. Among the dead, I saw many signs of wealth, and greed. In this boy however, I only saw desperation in his soul. I saw need, I saw no malice. She had known..


End file.
